Please, Don't Leave
by LadyDivine91
Summary: Friday and Saturday nights are date nights for Kurt. Sebastian, Kurt's roommate for the past five years since Kurt broke off his engagement with Blaine, isn't too thrilled with the prospect of watching him get dressed up to run off to another meaningless hookup, not when he's slowly beginning to realize that he has feelings for him. Kurtbastian. Kurt H. Sebastian S.


**A/N: Inspired by the anon prompt 'whore'. Warning for** ** _blink and you miss it mention of Blaine_** **.**

Sebastian counts to five before he puts his key in the lock and opens his apartment door. It's Friday night, and he knows what that means. He doesn't even need to see Kurt before he starts rolling his eyes. He knows the signs of Kurt getting ready for a date – the soundtrack to _Wicked_ playing on the stereo in the living room even though Kurt isn't in there, the bottle of tequila open on the kitchen counter with a used glass sitting beside it (a shot or two to calm his nerves), the torn plastic sheaths from the dry cleaner down the street balled up in the recycling trash.

Sebastian throws his book bag on the floor by the door, and opts to toss his jacket on top of it instead of hanging it up because he knows how much it'll irk Kurt to see a $1200 designer cashmere jacket carelessly balled up on the ground when he leaves.

These weekend hookups have been Kurt's Friday and Saturday night ritual for months now – different guys every time, sometimes _two_ at a time, and Sebastian hates it. Not because he doesn't get his fair share of ass, but because…because he misses Kurt.

There. He acknowledged it. He misses Kurt. And not just his roommate Kurt, who does the bulk of the cleaning so Sebastian doesn't have to lift a finger, and handles things like hiring maintenance men, cable guys, and electricians, which is a chore that Sebastian positively hates.

Sebastian can't stand dealing with _people_.

He misses the Kurt who makes too much dinner on purpose, knowing that Sebastian probably won't eat otherwise, and has himself convinced that Sebastian doesn't know. The Kurt that can watch _Moulin Rouge_ three times in a row and cry at the exact some spots every single time (like he doesn't know by now that the chic's going to die? Come on, man…) The Kurt that likes to play UNO for hours on end, and actually throws his hands in the air and yells UNO! when he wins.

Things weren't supposed to end up this way. Sebastian agreed to share an apartment with Kurt because he couldn't stand him, and ergo had no sexual attraction to him whatsoever, especially not when he dressed like a gay 1960s flight attendant. But Kurt screwed him over. He broke the rules. He hit puberty in his twenties and turned out _hot_. He got a job at Vogue, one that came with an expense account. He discovered YouTube makeup gurus and developed a love of MAC cosmetics.

Nowadays he looks more like a Versace runway model than that gay-face loser Sebastian first met at The Lima Bean.

And maybe Sebastian might have misjudged him a teeny tiny little bit…sort of. But, then, he also misjudged himself. Sebastian didn't realize that he, too, coveted the thing he always despised Kurt for wanting - sappy romance. Sebastian found out, much to his own surprise, that he wanted someone like Kurt; someone who would take the time to know him. That he wanted a man who took it upon himself to figure out Sebastian's school schedule, and make breakfast for him on his super early days…like Kurt does. Or who puts together clove sachets and hides them in his sock drawers, not knowing that his mother used to do the same thing, but with lavender…the way Kurt did.

Sebastian missed the Kurt who, after finding out that Sebastian's parents had planned on traveling Europe from October thru January, put off his Thanksgiving and Christmas plans last year so that Sebastian wouldn't have to spend the holidays alone.

The Kurt who learned that Sebastian's grandmother's favorite flowers were peonies, and makes sure there's a vase of them in the apartment in April and in September – the month she was born, and the month she died.

Sebastian could say that these things come from constant association with Kurt, living with him day after day. They were bound to learn something about one another over time. It's been five flippin' years. So, Kurt knowing that Sebastian is allergic to Pierre Cardin is the same as Sebastian knowing what line of hair care products Kurt uses…even though they don't share a bathroom. Or the fact that Kurt knows Sebastian likes green coffee instead of black coffee is the same as Sebastian knowing that Kurt prefers red wine over white…mostly because his dad switched to drinking red wine from beer after he had his heart attack.

None of that is unusual. It's called being observant.

Then again, his friend from Dalton, Wes Leung, has been living with his college roommate, Thad Hardwick, for the past seven years, and just recently found out that Thad is adopted. That seems like something that two people living with one another for seven years might know from a casual association with one another.

Sebastian picks up Kurt's bottle of tequila and takes a swig.

Sebastian doesn't particularly care for tequila. He prefers whiskey. But Kurt drinks tequila.

So tequila must taste like Kurt.

At the rate things are going, Sebastian will never find out since it seems the only person in the tristate area that Kurt doesn't want to wrap his legs around is him.

And for that, Sebastian has no one to blame but himself.

Sebastian walks down the hall towards Kurt's bedroom and hears, "Hey!" before he gets there. There's a strange quirk to Kurt's voice, like he has a mouth full of marbles, and Sebastian knows he's applying makeup – eyeliner, probably. "I had chicken marsala, but I made too much. I left you half in the fridge."

Sebastian rolls his eyes – a habit that's beginning to make his head hurt.

"What? Your little fuckboy not buying you dinner?" Sebastian jeers as he marches into Kurt's room and plops down on the bed. Kurt, kneeling on the stool to his vanity, leans in towards the mirror to get a closer look at the eyeshadow he's ombre-ing. He's wearing a red, silk, button-down, and tight black jeans – not his _usual_ tight jeans, since all of his jeans are tight. These jeans in particular go beyond regular tight to bordering on 'health concern'. Moving his head left and right to make sure his eyeliner is even causes his hips to sway, his ass swinging back and forth.

Sebastian follows with his eyes, burying his nails into his thigh to keep from licking his lips.

"Nu-uh," Kurt says, oblivious to Sebastian's drooling. "I'm meeting him at The Icehouse. We're just gonna go dancing."

"There is no _just dancing_ with you," Sebastian remarks sarcastically. Kurt giggles, not realizing how much his habit of bedding everything on two legs honestly bothers Sebastian. "Who is it this time?"

"His name's George? Geoff? Jim…but with a 'G'?" Kurt shrugs like it's an afterthought. "I don't know. I don't care. I'm just going out, gettin' my boogey down, so don't wait up."

Kurt catches the look on Sebastian's face – his dropped jaw, wide-eyed stare of…disbelief? Awe? Disgust? Kurt can't tell sometimes. He's known Sebastian a long time – ironically, longer than he knew Blaine by the time they broke off their engagement. But sometimes he can't read Sebastian at all.

"Well," he says, putting down the powder brush he's been using to dust his face, "don't just stand there gawking. How do I look?"

Sebastian looks at Kurt through his reflection in his vanity, putting the final touches on a layer of ruby red liquid lipstick – a color that makes his lips look plumper, plusher, with a gleam like hard candy.

Sebastian is positively dying for a lick.

"You look like a whore."

Kurt glares. "And you're an asshole," he says, angrily shoving the applicator into the tube and capping it. "Is that your idea of a compliment?"

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with that," Sebastian says. "I like the way you look. I think it's hot, and you're wasting it on these peckerheads you pick up off the street like loose change. Kurt" – Sebastian sighs – "you're throwing yourself around."

"So?" Kurt doesn't appreciate Sebastian tossing those words – words he told Sebastian in confidence that his father said to him – in his face. "So what if I am? What do _you_ care? Do you remember how many times you told me that my being here is just a matter of convenience?"

"I remember," Sebastian says sadly. "And I should have never said that. It was mean."

"Yeah, well, that's who you are. You're _mean_." Kurt shakes his head, searching for his mascara. "I don't get you right now. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I wish you'd stop this, and just…stay here. With me."

Kurt scoffs at Sebastian in the mirror, but stands up and turns to look at him anyway. "With _you_?"

"Yeah," Sebastian says defensively. "With _me_."

Kurt crosses his arms. "And do _what_ , exactly?"

"Whatever you want," Sebastian offers, but it sounds like a plea. "I'll order us dinner, we can watch a movie, hang out…" Kurt rolls his eyes, probably at the prospect of his brand new outfit and his perfect makeup going completely to waste. "I'll take you to a club, anywhere you want, just…don't leave. Don't go out on another meaningless hookup."

"Maybe they're not meaningless," Kurt counters, leaning back against his vanity.

"Really? Name for me one man you've seen more than once."

Kurt is about to answer, but infuriatingly, not a single name leaps to mind. "Well, maybe I want it that way."

"So is that why you tell your friends that you wish you could find someone you could watch Netflix all night with? Someone you can bake with? Someone you can read old Playbills to? Because you're so okay with one-night stands?"

" _You_ should talk," Kurt snaps, putting his hand to his ear like it's a phone. "Ring-ring. Hello, pot? It's kettle. By the way, you're black."

"Cute," Sebastian says. "Would that be classified as dinner theater or performance art?"

"You said that when we moved in together, there wouldn't be any fooling around between us, remember?" Kurt says, overlooking Sebastian's insult, or the fact that he's been listening in on Kurt's private phone calls. "You said that you didn't like rotating out roommates every time someone's feelings got hurt, but that I was okay because I wasn't remotely interesting enough to tempt you."

Sebastian doesn't argue the fact. He knows that he said those things, so coming up with an excuse for saying them will just make him seem like _more_ of a dick. At least, he has the decency to cringe at his own distasteful remarks. "Those feelings have changed."

"Just like that?" Kurt snaps his fingers. "And I'm supposed to what? Change horses midstream because you came to this marvelous epiphany?"

"No."

"I'm supposed to forgive all the snide remarks and the insults and the comments because you decided I'm _interesting enough_ now?"

"No," Sebastian says. "And you're right. If I were you, I wouldn't forgive me, either. But I'd like another chance. I'd like to make this better."

Kurt shrugs. "Why? Why does it even matter?"

"Because you deserve better, and I would like to be the man who gives that to you," Sebastian says, in a way that doesn't sound like the Sebastian Smythe that Kurt knows at all. Well, not the one he met in Ohio, or the one he first moved in with. But, yes, the man he's been living with for the past few years has been slowly evolving into this. Come to think of it, Kurt can't remember the last time Sebastian has gone out on a date, or brought someone home. He can't even recall the last time Sebastian had Skype sex with someone (which Kurt always heard from his room down the hall because the man doesn't know how to be _quiet_ ). Sebastian has forced himself into a form of abstinence for what? Because he has secretly fallen for Kurt, and he's waiting for Kurt to come around?

"Are you being serious?" Kurt asks, squinting suspiciously at him. "I can't tell. You're not serious often enough for me to have a frame of reference."

"Yes," Sebastian says, getting up and walking over to him. "I'm being serious."

Kurt cocks a brow. "Prove it."

"Okay…" Sebastian looks around Kurt's room without a clue where Kurt expects him to start. "How?"

"Let me do something to you that I've wanted to do for a _long_ time." Kurt laces his fingers together, cracking his knuckles, and Sebastian swallows. This is it. He's going to slap him. He knows Kurt has wanted to for longer than they've been living together. He's told everyone he knows. Sebastian thinks he even told his dad, which, incidentally, coincided with a gift certificate Kurt received later on for one month of boxing lessons down at Gold's Gym.

"Do you…really need to do that?" Sebastian asks nervously, eyeing Kurt's hands. "I mean…is that completely necessary?"

"Yeah." Kurt rotates his linked hands and pushes out till his knuckles crack one more time in succession. "It's _completely_ necessary."

"Al-alright." Sebastian closes his eyes. "Go ahead."

Sebastian holds his breath, grits his teeth, and prepares for the slap across the face…or the punch.

For a split second, Sebastian asks himself – is getting with Kurt worth a slap across the face?

After that question, a single thought crosses his mind.

Christmas Day. Kurt woke Sebastian up at the ungodly butthole of morning, bearing a mug of homemade hot chocolate dressed with whipped cream, nutmeg, and cinnamon. They spent the day watching Sebastian's favorite movies, and instead of something traditional – like a turkey or a ham for dinner – they made pizza. Kurt even slept with him – on the sofa, in front of the Christmas tree, while they watched the yule log burn on TV.

It was about as close to a perfect Christmas as adult Sebastian has ever had.

So, yes. A slap across the face, which he can admit he deserves, in exchange for more times like that in the future – he'll take it.

But the tension-filled silence isn't broken by the flat of Kurt's palm slamming into Sebastian's cheek, but by Kurt's hands grabbing Sebastian's shirt and pulling him forward, the move crashing their mouths together into a heated kiss that Kurt, to Sebastian's utter shock, initiates. Sebastian feels himself pulled toward Kurt's bed, feels himself fall forward, and he opens his eyes in time to see Kurt beneath him, arms snaking around his neck, and drawing him in deeper.

"Kurt?" Sebastian mumbles, even as his brain screams _Just shut up and kiss him, stupid!_ "Kurt…what are you…?"

Kurt pulls off Sebastian's mouth with a groan at being interrupted, but a smile on his lips that Sebastian hasn't seen in a while – a soft, genuine smile that makes Kurt look so much more like the man who first moved in with him, reeling from a painful breakup and at the end of his rope. That's how he ended up on Sebastian's doorstep to begin with. He didn't have anything left to lose, and he didn't care enough to be bothered by the fact that he was sharing an apartment with Sebastian Smythe.

As for Sebastian, he didn't _need_ to share the apartment, but he never really could get the hang of living alone. On the other hand, he didn't get along with too many people. Kurt is the only roommate he's had that's lasted longer than a week – probably an indicator that he might be _the one_.

"I told you," Kurt says, "I've wanted to do that for a while now."

"How long, exactly?"

"I…don't want to tell you that," Kurt says sheepishly. "Let's just say long enough to make what I've been doing for the past few months kind of douche-y in retrospect."

"That's all right," Sebastian says, trampling down the bit of jealousy he feels. Their rooms might be down the hall from one another, but the walls are fairly thin. Sebastian knows what Kurt does with his dates when he brings them home. "I'm not really in a position to judge."

"No," Kurt says, trailing a lazy gaze down Sebastian's body lying on top of his own, "but you _are_ in a position to do a lot of other things."

Kurt rises up to meet Sebastian's mouth again, eyes zeroing in on his lips, ready to kiss him sore, when a buzzing in his back pocket makes him jump, almost knocking their foreheads together.

"Oh, God," Kurt groans, reaching into the tight squeeze of his back pocket for his phone. "Who the fuck is that?" Kurt reads the screen with a shocked look on his face, one that Sebastian thinks means he's going to get up and leave. Because this doesn't mean anything. None of Kurt's hookups do, and that's all Sebastian is destined to be – a hookup. Just as Sebastian is preparing to stand up and leave, Kurt wraps his arm tight around his waist, tugging him down. "Kevin!" he announces, declining the call. He turns off his phone and tosses it across the bed. "His name was Kevin."

Kurt leans up to kiss Sebastian again, but Sebastian backs away.

"So, you're okay with this? With…us?"

Kurt – hair a wreck, lips swollen from kissing, makeup smeared – smiles, and Sebastian thinks he's never looked more gorgeous.

"Are you willing to get off your high horse and bake with me once in a while?"

"That depends…" Sebastian gives Kurt a thoughtful look. "Can we bake naked?"

"I think we can do that."

"Then definitely."

Kurt waits before he kisses Sebastian again, looking at the red lipstick smeared across his mouth, and smirks. He brings up a finger, wipes a bit off, and shows it to Sebastian. "Now _you_ look like a whore."

Sebastian runs the tip of his nose over Kurt's, barely brushing their lips together. "Takes one to know one."


End file.
